Stargate Atlantis: Jokers Wild
by the morrighan
Summary: My version of a season six. This is the seventh story.
1. Chapter 1

Stargate Atlantis: Jokers Wild

"Colonel Sheppard, copy? Sir? Colonel Sheppard, do you read?"

John Sheppard ignored the summons, the questions. He snarled wordlessly at the voice as he flew the Puddle Jumper higher, higher and higher still until at last he broke atmosphere and was above the planet. Soon the city of Atlantis was lost to him, a mere silver speck on an ocean of blue. It shone like a diamond amid a sea of sapphire until it disappeared from view.

He lost himself in the moment, in the sheer joy of flying and the endless blackness of space. Stars twinkled but they were distant specks against the awesome vastness of nothing that surrounded him and cradled him, as if to separate him from the mournful city beneath him. There were no human emotions up here, no human concerns, only the emptiness of space and the cold, cold stars.

It had only been a few days but the population was still grieving, as what was to be expected. John had needed to get away, if only for a few hours, leaving the burden of command and the mantle of responsibility while he cleared his mind and tried to move past the tragedy.

The tragedy of Evan Lorne's untimely death tainted every thought, every emotion.

A light flashed in the gloom, attracting his attention. His instruments flickered and a warning chimed in the spaceship. John veered towards the strange configuration in the sky, trying to get a reading, any kind of reading but the controls were going haywire. Then it was gone. Darkness resumed and John thought he had imagined it.

Perhaps the guilt and grief were playing tricks on his mind.

The light flashed again, a jagged cut across the vastness of space. Like a solar flare except the sun was on the other side of the planet and there were no other larger stars in this vicinity. Just to be sure John consulted the star chart and found that he was correct. He stared at the light as it grew in intensity, in size, a steak of bright against the darkness.

It made him see double and he had to look away to clear his vision.

He activated the HUD but it was a jumble of algorithms that even McKay wouldn't understand, at first. There were equations and estimations of duration and size and time of all things which made no sense to John. He found himself wishing that Rodney was with him.

As if hearing his thoughts the physicist's voice came over the radio. "Sheppard, do you read? I'm getting a huge spike in energy directly in your path! It's a massive…tearing the space…quantum mechanics like the last…hole in the wall and you need to get away from…" His voice was intercut by static.

"Yeah, I noticed! Trying to veer aft but it's pulling me in like a tractor beam!" John shouted as the ship began to whine in protest. John was grabbing onto the controls in a vain effort to avoid the bright slash across space. The ship was being yanked towards it so hard that John was almost being hauled out of his seat as the g-forces were tearing at the ship's inertia dampeners.

One of the drive pods perilously rattled against the hull.

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"Sheppard! John! OW!" Rodney McKay put a hand to his ear as the static squealed and vibrated painfully on his eardrum. He slammed his hand onto the console. "I need to know what the hell that thing is now!" He fingered his sore ear. It was still ringing.

"It's a massive disturbance of interstellar space," Radek Zelenka informed, fingers flying over the keyboard. A screen was filling with a display of space. A tiny dot that represented John's ship was moving straight towards a large, angled space of white.

"I know that! What is it? No! What is it not?"

"What?"

"What it's not!" Rodney snapped.

"It's not a Hive Ship or a rogue Stargate or any kind of enemy spaceship," Radek stated, now that he understood the question. "I can track them in real time…but time…time is accelerating at the heart of the, the disturbance." Radek adjusted his glasses but the baffling readings remained the same.

"Time or space or both?" Rodney asked, freeing his ear to type commands. "Long-range sensors are going off-line because of the surge of energy output in that one area."

"Do we need to get Jumpers in the air?" Richard Woolsey asked, joining them. "Is the colonel in any danger?" He eyed the screen. It was a jumble of information that he couldn't decipher.

"Not yet, and yes possibly," Rodney answered, moving to another computer.

"There's no danger to the city, is there?" Richard asked. He glanced out the window. The sky was blue, the sun was shining and the waters rolled peacefully.

"No. The spatial distortion is far enough from the planet that it won't affect us," Radek answered. "I'm not sure about the time. Rodney?"

Rodney ignored the question. A suspicion was forming as he scanned the readings and kept glancing at the chart. He kept glancing at the tiny dot that represented John as it got closer and closer to the massive light wave that was about to swallow him whole.

Richard looked from one scientist to the other. "Let's have a rescue team on standby, just in case." He stepped to the comm unit. "Major Reynolds, please report to the Jumper bay with your team and remain on standby." Richard stepped back to stand behind the two physicists. "You're sure it's not a Hive ship?"

"Positive. It's not a ship at all," Radek assured, but he didn't seem relieved by this knowledge.

"Getting readings now…oh damn…damn…" Rodney muttered.

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John swore profusely, trying to use his hands and his mind to slow the ship, to turn just slightly but he was inexorably drawn closer and closer. The light became brighter and brighter. The viewport darkened against it and even so John squinted then shut his eyes against the blinding whiteness of the light.

"Sheppard, veer off! John, don't go into the spectrum! It's not a normal wormhole but an energy rift of the…" Rodney's voice was lost in the whine of static and ship alarms.

"I have to! It's gonna tear the ship apart!" John shouted in reply, shoving himself backwards in his chair as he gripped the controls and tried to keep the ship flying towards the anomaly but angling downwards in a vain attempt to thwart it. If he could just hit the angle right he would relieve the stress on the ship and at the same time avoid being sucked into whatever the hell it was that was trying to engulf him.

A spangle of colors danced on his eyelids and the ship lurched forward as if snapped from a rubber band.

John was thrown forward and he grunted with the impact as he slammed into the controls. A pain flared across his chest where he had hit the console. His muscles tensed as he kept a firm grip on the joysticks and he planted his feet firmly on the floor before he flew headfirst into the viewport. He swore, sitting back in his chair as the ship spun and veered and listed to the left like a boat sinking in the sea.

There was a crash behind him as panels flew open and things fell, things that weren't secured or tied down by the netting that held the important things in place like weapons and the first aid kit. Another whump hit as if he had sped over a bump in the road and he fought to gain control of the ship and its systems.

Luckily he was used to turbulence from flying fighter jets so he didn't lose his breakfast.

The ship was shuddering around him like a vibrating bed, and although that would have provoked enjoyable sensations this was no bed but a ship in space. John tried to keep calm and was trying to calm the ship and stabilize whatever needed stabilizing. The viewport returned to normal and the ship's alarms fell silent at last although the drive pod was still shuddering against the hull.

The knocking sound was both comical and worrisome.

"McKay, do you read? Rodney, copy? Atlantis, this is Sheppard? I've lost lateral controls but I can fly this bird to the water. McKay, do you read?" John demanded. His eyes were on the controls. Lights flashed with warnings in red and green and one dial was spinning round and round. Oddly the dials were frosted over, as if he had gone through a dramatic drop in temperature. He eyed his bruised knuckles, only now feeling a sharp cold on his skin. It bothered him. The Jumper should have automatically compensated for any changes in temperature, and he wondered if there was a hull breach.

"Colonel Sheppard? Sheppard, cloak your ship and land at these coordinates!"

"McKay! What the hell is…" John's words fell away as he lifted his gaze. He eased his grip on the controls and with a thought rendered the ship invisible.

John was flying in the blue sky of a planet, no longer in space. Gently he wafted down through white clouds. There was land beneath him, and he wondered if he somehow had gotten off-course and was now over the mainland. He activated the HUD but the readings were all wrong for the mainland. The dimensions were improbable and instead of one land mass there were several all over the planet.

There were several energy signatures but none matched Atlantis.

The clouds cleared as he reached a lower altitude. The ship was still listing slightly and he adjusted the power and the drive pods to compensate. The control lights were no longer flashing but the dial was still spinning. It was spinning backwards. John frowned at it until he looked up to see the landscape underneath the ship.

He found himself flying over a desert until hills broke up the monotony of sand and scrub and cactus. The browns and reds were dull, marked by drought and scoured by winds and the hot, hot sun. Dry river beds wound their way across desolate terrain until that gave way to farmland, then to settled communities.

"Sheppard, do you copy? Please cloak your ship and land at these coordinates," McKay's voice repeated in his ear, no longer full of static, and no longer anxious. It wasn't the terrain that left him speechless, however.

It was the city that he was flying over now. Streets were ablaze with colored lights and buildings, all kinds of buildings, each more outrageous then the next, towering above the street and exhibiting fountains and fake volcanoes and a Roman Coliseum and a castle. And all of the lights flashing brightly even in the light of day; neon colors advertising and luring customers to their lairs. There was even a giant neon cowboy waving at him.

It was a familiar skyline to him, to anyone from Earth.

He swung round and approached again, but the vista remained the same.

It was the sign that clinched it for him. That confirmed his suspicions and surprise and downright shock at where he found himself. He read the sign again.

Welcome to Las Vegas, Nevada.


	2. Chapter 2

Stargate Atlantis: Jokers Wild2

John cautiously stepped out of the Jumper, not knowing exactly what to expect. He only knew this wasn't Kansas anymore. He stood in the heat of the Nevada desert, his cloaked ship at his back and a rather decrepit, nondescript building in front of him. It had to be Government Issue judging by the bland exterior and the lack of any signage or notices as to what it was. John ran through the acronyms—NID, CIA, IOA, SGC—but none quite seemed to fit.

He watched a man exit the building and approach him. He was in a dark suit and his hair was slicked back with a side part but John knew who he was and also realized that he wasn't on Earth, at least not his version of Earth unless his friend had a twin he never talked about. "McKay! McKay, what the hell is going on here? You…" John broke off, stopping, staring. This Rodney McKay was calm, prepossessing and not at all like the man John knew.

Rodney McKay smiled. "John Sheppard. It's good to see you again, although we haven't actually met. Sorry we had to pluck you out of your universe like that but we can only open the rift at certain times in space and certain times, in, er, time and when we located your ATA code we had to take the opportunity before we lost it."

"What?"

"Surely your version of me has explained about parallel universes and alternate time lines?"

"Yeah. We've run into that already, sort of…and don't call me surely."

It was a lame joke, but both men chuckled and relaxed. "John!" McKay exclaimed, clasping the other man's arm for a moment. "It's so good to see you! I've missed you, well, our version of you. Let's go. We desperately need your help. Are you all right? The trip must have been violent but…there's something else? Is everything all right over there?" Rodney could see the haunted heaviness in John's green eyes, on his shoulders.

John walked with McKay as the men headed for the building. "It's been a bad coupla days," he answered, declining to say more. The desert heat was a searing weight on him. It was making him sweat and making the pains from the hit he had taken in the ship begin to throb. "Hey, wait. Why can't you use this version of me, I mean this reality's Sheppard? McKay?"

McKay had stopped. A sorrow covered him like a shadow as he met John's gaze. "He, he died."

"Oh." John didn't know what to say to that. He licked his lips. "Um…he…I…how?"

McKay's face was grim. "He, he died saving the world from a Wraith invasion. He was a hero, in the end. He.." McKay stopped talking as the memory of that loss was still an open wound that would never quite heal.

"In a ship or…" John prompted, curious despite himself.

"No, he wasn't in the Air Force. He was a detective here."

"A…what? I was a…" John couldn't quite wrap his head around this. An alternate version of himself was one thing, but a completely different career was quite another. "How—"

"It doesn't matter, John. Please." McKay gestured and the two men entered the facility.

"Sorry," John muttered, shelving his curiosity as McKay's grief was an odd parallel to his own. Cold air hit him, chilling the trickles of sweat on his skin and he felt a little ridiculous in his black Atlantis BDUs while everyone else was dressed either in normal clothing or standard issue camo gear. "What do you need me for?" he asked, ignoring the stares of passing people.

"We need to seal up the rift area where the incursion took place to avoid any more Wraith invasions. For that we need to use the ATAs, but not just any ATA but one who is strong—"

"In the Force, got it. In the ATA," he added as McKay glanced at him, as if not getting the movie reference and John repressed a sigh. "And?"

"And to activate the ACDS at its full potential we need you. Apparently your ATA is quite the strongest and there is some genetic interface we can—"

"Whoa, what's an ACDS?"

"Ancient Chair Defense System."

"Oh. The Chair, okay, got it. Guess they shouldn't let you name things in this universe either," John jested with a smile, but his smile faded as he thought of Ford. Another man that had been inept at naming things. Gateships instead of Jumpers. Ford was dead, killed by John. Another loss, another death at his hands.

Another notch on the endless chain of remorse.

The sit-rep room was crowded with people talking, gesturing and staring at consoles. The buzz of angry voices reminded John of a hive of bees, until suddenly all stopped and stared at him. John tried not to stare at a man resembling Radek Zelenka as he was led through the crowd to a quieter room. The lights were dim and a long table was empty except for a pitcher of water and two glasses.

"Wait here a moment. Have a drink. I'll be right back." McKay's voice was calm until he returned to the cacophony of the other room as it resumed now that John was no longer there.

John stood looking round, but the room was quite bare. He moved to the table, sat. He poured himself a glass of water and drank as thirst clawed along his throat. He could hear an ensuing argument in the next room between Zelenka and McKay and he had to smile at the familiarity. If he closed his eyes he could almost imagine himself back in Atlantis.

But he didn't want to be back in Atlantis. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

A book caught his eye and he stood. He walked over to a set of filing cabinets to eye it. There was a rather striking man on the cover, somewhat familiar although John couldn't quite place him. He lifted the book and leafed through the pages. He had actually begun to read it when a noise made him close the book and restore it to the top of the filing cabinet.

"Ah. _Vegas Blues_, yes," McKay identified the book. "Go ahead. It's a very good read. You should really get around to reading it. I think you'll be suitably impressed. It's an interesting story about what could have happened if you, I mean if our Sheppard had survived and the Wraith had gotten to Earth. I think it would have made a rather entertaining television series, actually. Ross really captured something there. And you, well, I think the title character should be played by that Flanigan guy."

"Who?"

"Joe Flanigan. He's an actor, done lots of television shows and a few movies that nobody's ever seen. There's a slight resemblance to you."

"Never heard of him," John replied with a shrug. "What about you? Who would play you in the show? Some Canadian actor no one's ever heard of?"

"They'd never cast a guy like that. No, the answer is obvious. Brad Pitt."

John was trying not to smile but McKay's utter sincerity and conviction caused him to burst into laughter.

"What?" McKay asked, as if affronted. "What is so damn funny about that?" He smiled, but grew serious. "Let's go. I had to prep the ACDS with a half-depleted ZPM output interface with an Asgard—"

"Whatever. What do I need to do?" John asked. As the two men headed for the door he snatched a pack of spearmint gum off the table.

"Nothing. Just power up the ACD…the Chair," he amended to John's eye roll, "and concentrate. I'll give you a set of coordinates to channel the power and the Drones towards plus an accelerated, modified naquadah bomb, don't worry it's small and should do the trick. We can seal the space/time rift and get back for lunch."

"Oh. No problem, then."

"Exactly." McKay paused, eying the other man. "Was that sarcasm?"

"Not at all," John replied sternly, but a smirk teased at his lips.

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"Missing? What do you mean missing?"

Rodney shrugged as Richard Woolsey repeated the question. "Just what I said. He was flying the Jumper towards that anomaly and then poof!"

"Poof?"

"Poof. He was gone. And so was the energy fluctuation."

"Did a Hive ship get him?" Richard asked.

"No. There are no Hive ships in the area, no ships at all," Radek answered.

"He did not crash, did he? Or experience some malfunction?" Teyla Emmagan asked. The Athosian woman worriedly looked from Radek to Rodney and back again.

"No. There was no explosion or anything like that," Rodney assured. "One second he was there. We lost radio contact and then—'

"Poof, we got it," Richard replied. "Can you track him at all?"

"What part of poof don't you understand?" Rodney snapped. "It's like he just vanished! He was sucked into that anomaly, whatever it was! A random shift in space and time which means it quite possibly wasn't random at all but a deliberate a deliberate…" Rodney snapped his fingers, meeting Radek's gaze. "Quantum entanglement but on a vaster scale and affecting not Atlantis or this planet but a specific area in our space and time congruent to an area in a parallel space and time which had a massive gravitational pull and—"

"I have no idea what that means, doctor!" Richard complained.

"If it wasn't random then that means it was orchestrated?" Radek asked.

"Who would do that? And why?" Teyla wondered. "Do you mean time travel?"

"What? No, don't be absurd! I mean parallel universe travel. PUT for short. What?" Rodney asked as all stared at him. "It's a perfectly good name!" Suddenly he missed John's sarcastic commentary and he glanced at the screens, as if he could somehow restore the Jumper with a thought or a wish. The screen remained blank.

"Whatever it was we might be able to calibrate the incursion and find a way to initiate another sequence, or at least be ready for the next one if there is a next one," Radek stated.

"And more to the point where is Sheppard and how do we get him back?" Richard asked. The science was giving him a headache and now he understood the pained look John often had when dealing with the two physicists.

All looked at Rodney. The physicist shrugged. "I'm working on it!"


	3. Chapter 3

Stargate Atlantis: Jokers Wild3

John paused in his pacing. A swarm of technicians were working around the Ancient Chair, attaching wires and displays and interfaces connecting to a ZPM and a computer console. John felt drawn to the Chair as he always did, as if somehow the Ancient device was calling to his ATA gene. The feeling was no surprise to him; in fact it was much stronger when he was in Atlantis itself, but the familiarity both relaxed and irritated him.

Sometimes he felt like a pawn in some cosmic chess game where he had no choice in the matter.

There was a pile of debris against one wall, and John strolled over to it, curious. A heap of battered and broken metal cluttered the floor. The material was an unknown alloy that was both tough and fragile. Pieces were snapped off and bent at odd angles, singed by intense heat. Ends were curled up like paper and stained black.

John squatted as he could make out a faint design on one piece. He touched it. He wiped away the residue and brushed off his fingers on his pants, leaving a gray trail on the black fabric.

"John! We're about ready. John?" McKay joined him, staring at the man and the mess in front of him. "Do you recognize that?"

"Yes. Where did this come from?" John's gaze was locked on the pattern, the odd insignia he had seen only once, but it had been burned into his mind.

"Debris field. I was upgrading the PUT when an overload occurred and a ship got caught up in the matter stream. There were no life forms aboard. When it exploded into pieces and littered the desert we gathered what we could. By then the residual radiation was null. Do you know who made it?"

"No. But this symbol is…what the hell is PUT?" he asked, looking up at McKay, distracted by the odd acronym.

McKay shrugged. "Parallel universe travel. It's the same technology that brought you here."

"Ah. Good thing I didn't end up like this."

"The symbol?" McKay redirected.

John looked at the debris. "I've seen it before, on a ship and on the aliens who made it. We encountered them in another parallel reality, but now…I think they are in ours. I think they are on the fringes of our galaxy, the Pegasus Galaxy. We don't know what the hell they are yet. But they are not friendly. Not at all."

"You encountered them in an alternate reality?"

John stood. "Yeah, and now in my own reality. We, we lost good people to them." John swallowed past the surge of grief and guilt and anger. He glanced round the room, met McKay's gaze. "We've got people working on what they are and how to combat them." The thought of Moira briefly surfaced in his mind, and the tension coiling in his gut eased a little. "You can't let them ever get close to this galaxy, Rodney. They are worse than the Wraith."

"Worse? How could they be worse?"

"The Wraith just feed on us, so they don't kill us all. These things…so far they just kill."

The silence stretched as McKay stared at John. Even the technicians were frozen in place by the somber warning. McKay nodded. "Then let's get this tear sealed, John. Then you can go home and stop them before they reach Atlantis. I have engineers working on your ship. It sustained some damage but we'll have it in working order so you can go home."

"Sounds like you wanna get rid of me ASAP."

"No, but I'm sure you want to get back to your Atlantis quickly, right?"

John shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Maybe they would be better off without me. Maybe I could stop getting people killed if I wasn't there." He glanced at his hands, flexing his fingers as if he had killed with his bare hands instead of a gun. As if he had killed Lorne himself instead of the alien. As if his culpability was a physical thing he could crush and eliminate.

"I don't believe that, John. You can't have an Atlantis without a Sheppard," McKay reasoned, but his light tone was swallowed by the flash of darkness and guilt in John's eyes. He wondered who had been lost but was too polite to ask.

"Apparently you can have a Vegas without one," John muttered darkly. "Let's get this done."

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"Anything?"

Rodney sighed. "No. I'll keep scanning for any anomalies and sudden energy signatures and with you standing behind me looking over my shoulder and asking every ten seconds is sure to speed the process along. Sorry," he apologized as Richard took a step back from where he had been standing. "I'm working on a possible mathematical equation similar to that other one and I might be able to trigger something from our end."

"Which I still believe is a bad idea," Radek stated as he worked at an adjoining console.

"It's all we've got to go on to get Sheppard back!" Rodney flared.

"The rift in space and time is highly unstable and we may inadvertently open to a black hole for all that we know! It has to be triggered at their end!"

"So we do what? Sit on our asses and twiddle our thumbs and hope, just hope that they send Sheppard home to us? We don't even know who the hell they are!"

"Doctors, please!" Richard intervened, holding up his hand and stepping between the two vitriolic scientists. "I think we can reasonably assume that whoever did this was not an enemy, at least not an overt enemy."

"And how do you know that? Did you consult a psychic?" Rodney snapped.

"No. There have been no further incursions and Atlantis has not been attacked."

"Oh." Rodney considered. "I guess that makes sense…"

"Mr. Woolsey, I would like to lead a search party," Ann Teldy offered, joining the men. The major was trying to conceal her worry, but it flashed in her blue eyes.

"Why? He's not here, he's not anywhere!" Rodney shouted. "You won't be able to find him because he's not here, not anywhere here in our galaxy! Why don't you people listen to me?"

"Nevertheless if we scout the area in Jumpers we can use our scanners and pick up any signals, however small. And scan for any nearby interference or communications," Ann countered, glaring at the scientist.

"Oh." Rodney sheepishly nodded.

"That's an excellent idea, major. I've got Reynolds already on standby. Grab a pilot and some marines and Lorne can lead the…" Richard paused. A shadow hung in the air, crossed everyone's faces. The shadow of someone who had always been there and now no longer was. "I mean Reynolds can lead his team while you can lead the other team," he corrected quietly. "You have a go."

"Once you're in the air I'll give you his last known coordinates…but stay well clear of the event horizon should it reoccur," Rodney said.

Ann nodded. "We'll find him, Mr. Woolsey."

Rodney sighed. "No, you won't because he isn't here!"

"Doctor Zelenka, are we any closer to being able to contact Earth yet?" Richard asked.

"No. We still do not have sufficient power to maintain a wormhole."

Richard sighed. He adjusted his glasses. "Very well. Let's find Sheppard and get him home and then we can concentrate on boosting our power to contact Earth."

"It's just another day in Atlantis," Radek sighed.

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John sat back. The Ancient Chair reclined, enfolding him as best it could since it wasn't exactly a recliner and was hard, stiff and without any cushions whatsoever. Tendrils of power tickled his nerves and he could feel the interface of man and machine. It was familiar, but not as intimate as the connection was with the other Ancient Chair in Atlantis. He relaxed, shifting on the seat and setting his palms onto the controls of the wide chair arms. He closed his eyes.

He was half tempted to fall asleep.

"Okay, John…wow…it's really responding to you. Have you been practicing your techniques?"

John snorted. "No. I may be a little rusty but I don't have to practice."

"What? Oh…." McKay chuckled. "I don't want to know about that. Concentrate, John. I'm sending the coordinates. You can see the star chart in your mind. Send a Drone there. Imagine a white tear in space, a light in the darkness and send the Drone directly to it, into the heart of the dragon, so to speak. You'll feel resistance as you get closer…like you are piloting it. We'll open the skylight so you can…" A Drone shot out of the building, through the roof. Tiles shattered and fell to the floor all around them. "…guide it," he finished.

"Sorry," John said, briefly smiling. He concentrated, picturing the Drone in his mind. It resembled a large, yellow squid and there was a payload attached to it, a black oblong box which could only be the naquadah bomb that McKay had mentioned. He propelled the device up, up into the blue sky, through the cumulus clouds and broke atmosphere to fly in open space. He saw a white line against the darkness and headed for it, hands flexing on imaginary controls.

"Very good," McKay said, sitting near and watching the progress of the Drone on a console. A tiny light represented the weapon as it blinked and made its way towards the jagged tear in reality. "Keep it steady, John. You have to hit it dead center and then I can trigger the bomb."

"Power levels fluctuating at eighty percent," a technician informed.

"That's to be expected. Concentrate, John," McKay urged.

"I am," John assured. He gritted his teeth. Having flown the city he thought nothing could be more difficult or taxing, but this one Drone was proving to be both. He doused all his other thoughts, clearing the cobwebs from his mind. His hands flattened on the Chair's pads as he bore all of his focus on the Drone and that little line of white in the black, black abyss of space.

"Better. You're getting there, John. Stay on target. When he red lines release the probes."

"What?"

"We're sending out scanners to take readings. Don't worry. Concentrate."

"Okay, okay, concentrating…whoa…where'd it go?"

"Keep looking. It will wink in and out of existence several times."

"And you're telling me this now?"

"That's why we needed you, specifically you. The strongest ATA gene can control the Drone and keep the Chair activated for long enough to achieve the mission. Now con—"

"Centrate, got it! When we're done here, McKay, you are so buying me a beer!"

McKay smiled. "I'll make it two, John. Now concentrate!"


	4. Chapter 4

Stargate Atlantis: Jokers Wild4

John stood in the center of the apartment, staring round. He swallowed. The rooms were quiet, dusty. Bare except for the most minimum of furnishings. Devoid of much personality except for a rack of DVDs and a Johnny Cash poster that was hanging from the wall, curling up at one end. There was a stack of unpaid and overdue bills on the table. There was an empty case of beer on the floor. There were hardly any personal mementos or artifacts to mark the life once lived here.

John felt like a ghost in his own life. Or rather a ghost in his doppelganger's life as he stared round the apartment that had once belonged to Detective John Sheppard in this reality. There were eerie similarities, and eerie differences. From the little that McKay had told him this John Sheppard had had a worse life, with more tragedy. This version of himself had lost a whole crew in Afghanistan and had been booted from the Air Force. This version had never married. This version had been a down and out detective, but he had done the right thing in the end, even though it had cost him his life.

"John? You said you wanted to get some civvie clothes?"

McKay's voice broke into his dark musings. "Yeah. Just give me a sec." John glanced at the physicist. The man was looking round, a sadness on his face that spoke of a friendship lost before it had ever really begun. John stepped into the bedroom and opened the closet. He perused the narrow selection of rumpled shirts and pants and quickly chose a maroon shirt and jeans. He changed into them, feeling odd, as if he was ransacking a dead man's wardrobe, which he was, but the man was himself, well, a version of himself so it wasn't really stealing as much as borrowing.

All of this alternate reality stuff made was making his head spin.

He sat on the bed a moment, stuffing his black Atlantis BDUs into a duffel bag. He wondered about this alternate life of this alternate man. This same man had had the same doubts and guilt and grief but with a few significant differences that had changed the course of his life quite dramatically, in John's view. Curiosity had compelled him to learn more.

He stood and crossed to the dresser. He opened the third drawer and felt around, past rolled socks and underwear to a lock box. He retrieved it. It had a combination lock on it but John knew the code and he unlocked it. He opened it, setting it on top of the dresser. He was not surprised at the sparse contents there. He grunted, noting the omissions.

"John?"

"Yeah, coming!" He shut the box and restored it. Then he thought better of it and put it into the duffel bag. He slung the bag over his shoulder and returned to find McKay at the door. "Sorry. It's just weird…seeing all of this. I feel like I've been here, like I live here but I don't."

"It's bound to be strange, seeing another version of your life. Let's get that drink now."

"What's this?" John had stopped by the DVDs and he touched a group of three. "The sequels? There weren't any sequels to the Star Wars trilogy. There were the prequels."

"What? There were no prequels to the Star Wars trilogy," McKay countered. "Lucas made the sequels. Didn't that happen in your reality? Those movies about Luke and Leia and Han and their kids and the rise of the New Republic and the Jedi Revolt?"

"Huh?" John met his gaze, baffled. He shook his head. "No. All we got were the prequels about the rise of Anakin Skywalker and the Sith and…whoa, you get Star Wars?" This was even more shocking than the discovery of a new set of films.

"Of course. Who doesn't? To be honest I do prefer Star Trek, however."

"Ah. Some things never change." John smiled briefly. He took the films, sliding them into his duffel bag. "I can't wait to see these. Let's go get that drink."

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John sat in a bar, nursing his third beer, or maybe his fourth. He couldn't quite recall as he was brooding, brooding. He felt drained, exhausted after sealing the rip in the universe, not to mention uncomfortable after seeing a version of his life that he could never have imagined.

Vegas was pretty much the same in all realities, John mused, as he crunched on pretzels and drank his beer. The casinos were loud. The lights were blinding. The crowds were excited and noisy. After the relative quiet and order of Atlantis this wild cacophony was jarring to his senses. He kept shifting on the stool, uncomfortable, as if at some deeper level he missed the city, missed the connection he had to it as much he wanted to deny it.

John wasn't much of a gambling man, apparently unlike his counterpart. He had taken the money McKay had given him and played a few rounds of cards. He had played a few quarters in the slot machines and had actually won a couple hundred dollars. The drinks were mostly free so he had pocketed the money, contemplating how to use it as it was virtually meaningless in Atlantis. He had noticed women giving him the eye, giving him open invitations and he suddenly recalled that Vegas was called Sin City for several reasons. And it was all legal.

"Done." McKay joined him, sliding his phone into his pocket. "Sorry about that. I've been going over the equations and we can get you home at nine in the morning."

"That precise?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, and we will have your ship fully repaired. Enjoy your night on the town, John, you've earned it." McKay patted the other man's shoulder. "But by all means get back to the facility before nine or I can't guarantee when the next window will be open between our two realities. You might be stranded here."

"Ah. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing," John mused, stroking his scruffy chin.

"I don't believe that. Surely Atlantis needs a Sheppard. Everyone back there is probably worried about you and I am certain they rely on you."

"Yeah, sure, when I'm not getting them killed. Maybe I should do them all a favor and stay here before I get everyone killed. Better yet maybe I should kill them all and be done with it before those damn aliens do worse."

"Nonsense, John! They need you. I…" The phone rang with an annoying jingle that John couldn't quite place. McKay shrugged, producing the phone and holding it to his ear. "Excuse me? Yes? What? Again? Fine!" McKay sighed. "Sorry, I've got to go. Another crisis with the Earth's magnetic field. Remember what I said. Nine in the morning."

"Got it."

"Catch a cab and direct them to Pegasus Tours. That will get you to the facility. Oh, and John, lay low. It's extremely unlikely that anyone around here would have known John Sheppard, but just in case you need to—"

"Lay low, go it. Go on, McKay. I'll be fine. I don't want much company tonight anyway."

"If you're sure?"

"Yeah. You go save the world for a change."

"I have, in fact. Several times. Get to the facility before nine."

"Go, would ya?" John snapped. "I don't need a damn babysitter," he muttered.

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John nursed his Scotch. He had switched to Scotch from beer, deciding the upgrade was one way to use the money he had won. He was eying the scantily-clad women who were gathering like vultures near him, considering another way to use the funds. He wanted to drown his dour mood in drink and sex, exactly in that order.

He didn't care about the consequences.

"Where's my money?"

John turned at the voice. A large man was glowering at him. Tattoos lined his bulging arms. John inwardly swore, blaming McKay's oversight. "What money?"

"Ha ha. You owe me ten grand, Sheppard, remember that? Or do I hafta rough you up again like I did last time?"

"I'm not the guy you're lookin' for. Geez, this guy was a real loser, wasn't he?"

A fist swung. "I ain't no loser!" the man bellowed. His fist connected and John suddenly found himself sprawled on the floor. The bottle of Scotch was broken and spilling next to him. That pissed him off more than the unexpected punch had.

"I didn't mean you, asshole! You owe another bottle of oh crap!"

John was hauled to his feet and hit again, but he spun and lashed out, landing his own fist on the man's jaw. Again and again John was pounding the guy, unleashing a sudden fury that he had been trying to bury. The two men were pulled apart. John kept swinging, the drink dulling his reactions until he was thrown out of the bar and onto the street. His duffel bag landed next to him with a solid thud.

"John? John…oh my God…it is you! John Sheppard!"

John inwardly cursed. So much for McKay's assurances, he grumbled to himself as he looked up, hearing the shocked female voice. A lovely auburn-haired woman was approaching, staring at him. She had on a turquoise scrubs. Her pretty face was full of shock and recognition. John didn't know what to say so he stared back at her as he moved to stand, having no idea who she was. He felt blood trickling along his mouth and he wiped it away.

"John?" She reached him. "Oh John, it is you! You are alive!" She hugged him.

John awkwardly returned the hug. "Um, obviously. What was your first clue? Look, I…"

She laughed, stepping back as she freed him. "John! The papers reported your death in the desert, preventing some kind of terrorist activity out there!" Her green eyes widened at the memory. "Some kind of detective sting, was it? John?"

"Um, yeah. Sorry. Things are still a little fuzzy..."

"You're injured? Another gambling debt?" she sighed. Her gaze roved over his body, back to his face. "I'm Molly. You remember me right? Are you okay, John?"

"Yeah, I…Molly…I…" John hesitated. He licked his lips. He could still taste the Scotch dancing on his tongue, in his mouth. He could see the prostitutes watching, disappointment on their painted faces. He debated for a moment, only for a moment. He smiled. "Of course I remember you, Molly…I got a lot on my mind, being dead and all, but I do remember you."

Molly smiled. Joy lit her face, joy and love and she touched his arm. "John. Why don't we go back to my place and finally have that drink, okay? I can take care of your lip if you want." Her joy was tempered by sudden worry lest he refuse her, as he had many, many times.

It was so easy, stepping into the shoes of another John Sheppard. It was child's play, really. What did it matter? John was a free agent. He had no ties to bind him, no lover to betray. He would be gone in the morning and could at least give this woman something that apparently that other John Sheppard never had. Nevertheless John felt a pang of guilt at the deception, taking advantage of her grief to assuage his own, not to mention enjoying some quick, meaningless sex. His qualms were doused, however, as his gaze roved along her body.

"Sure, Molly," he agreed with a smile. "Why don't we do just that? But let's get dinner first."

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"All over."

McKay sighed. "I figured that. Tell me."

Zelenka pointed at the screen where a blip was traveling. "The Strip, a grocery store then the Bellagio. Then a restaurant. Now he's at the Stratosphere and he is still with some woman."

"Some things never change," McKay remarked with a smile.

"Should we reel him in?"

"No. Let him have a vacation, however small. I gather that something terrible has happened in his reality and he blames himself, although he won't tell me the details. For saving us he deserves a little R&R. I told him about the nine o'clock deadline. Reel him in if he hasn't moved by eight thirty tomorrow morning."

"All right. What if he doesn't want to go back? You know how our version was."

McKay shook his head. "He's not like our John Sheppard. His sense of duty will compel him to return, no matter how guilty he feels. He'll return to his reality, I'm sure of it."

Nevertheless McKay was glad he had placed a tracking device in John's duffel bag.


	5. Chapter 5

Stargate Atlantis: Jokers Wild5

A persistent beeping woke John. He snorted, stirred and rolled. He was on a bed. He sat, rubbing his eyes and he blinked past the sunlight streaming in through the slatted blinds on the window. He grimaced at the foul taste in his mouth. He checked his watch. It was eight thirty.  
"Shit," he commented.

Only then he did he recognize the hotel suite. Only then did he realize he was naked. And he wasn't alone. He looked over to see Molly fast asleep next to him, but at that moment he couldn't remember her name. And he really didn't care. The sex had been satisfying, but it meant nothing to him. He didn't know a thing about her, apart from her infatuation with John Sheppard. The detective, not the colonel, but such niceties didn't matter. He smiled as erotic memories filled in the details of the evening.

The white lab coat had been an inspired touch.

Quickly he slipped off the bed and got dressed, choosing his black BDUs instead of that other John Sheppard's clothing. As if he was now slipping back into his real life, his own life instead of this pretend one he had appropriated, however briefly. He snatched his duffel bag and quickly strode to the door, feeling like a heel but knowing it was for the best. He would never see her again. He ignored the pangs of guilt, ascribing them to the alcoholic indulgences and not to his conscience. After all, he was a free agent and not seeing anyone back home and he could damn well do what he liked.

Never mind that he wasn't the John Sheppard that Molly had thought he was.

John wasn't sure he was that same man either. He could feel the losses piling up, the tragedies taking a toll. Five long years defending Atlantis and sometimes making colossal mistakes. He was tired of the mess, the constant to and fro with sometime allies and the back and forth between Woolsey and the rest. He could easily run the city without them, without any of them, he realized, and the city knew it as well. If he was given free rein he could bring those recalcitrant Genii to heal and crush the Coalition, then the Wraith.

He shook his head, startled by the vehemence of his thoughts.

He glanced at the bed. The woman was still asleep, curled in the sheets. Her auburn hair spilled across the pillow. She was pretty enough, and John wondered why his alternate self never had hooked up with her. She was more than adequate in bed. If he had had more time and been less inebriated he might have discovered if she was more than adequate.

Naughty colonel.

The words flitted in his mind, the words spoken by Moira O'Meara in a teasing, soft tone that made him smile. But he brusquely shoved aside all thoughts of that woman, of any woman who might be upset at his actions. An image of Ann Teldy came and went. He could imagine her disapproval, the frown of censure on her pretty face, in those blue eyes.

Whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

He exited the hotel and stopped short. McKay stood in front of a black van, arms crossed over his chest, an impatient expression on his face. John tried not to smirk, feeling like a teenager caught by a disapproving parent. "Hi."

"What did I tell you, Sheppard? We have a very short window of time to get you back home!" McKay scolded. "Let's go! No," he held up his hand, forestalling the other man. "I don't want to know the details."

John snorted as he got into the van with McKay. "Okay, then, dad. Don't worry, I was careful."

"I hope so."

"You're married." John had caught the glint of gold on McKay's fourth finger as the physicist grasped the steering wheel and started the vehicle.

"Yes."

"To?"

"Jennifer Keller. I take it that hasn't happened in your reality yet?" John's silence was telling, as was his expression before he eyed the road. "Crap," McKay realized. "How?"

"Wraith. Sorry." John's voice was gruff, low. It was another death to be laid at his door.

"How's he taking it?"

"Not good, but he's getting there. In time it'll get easier."

Silence. John stared out the window as they passed casino after casino, then wedding chapel after wedding chapel until they reached the suburbs, then the open desert. Although it was still morning the sun was already a hot gold ball in the sky, blazing down and making John miss the more comfortable climes of Atlantis.

"You're not with anyone?" McKay asked.

"No."

"Huh."

"I mean, well, yeah, I mean there are a couple of possibilities, but I don't have time to make a move on…hey, what is this about?" John asked, suddenly suspicious. "Was he with someone, is that it? It sure as hell wasn't that woman, Mary or Margaret or Molly or whatever the hell her name was. Was he with someone and you're thinking it would be the same for me?"

"No. I was just asking, is all," McKay stated. "There is any number of permutations to each reality so they are not identical by any means. One small thing can alter the course of a life, for example. You saw how different our Sheppard was compared to you. One decision can drastically change an outcome."

"Yeah. Tell me about it." He frowned, going over his decisions. Decisions that had cost him friends and colleagues time after time after time and were a constant thorn in his side.

"I'm just saying, John, the possibilities are endless in each particular reality or universe. Those aliens you've encountered, for example. They haven't breeched our galaxy yet but other versions of our reality probably have encountered them."

"Yes. They were attacking another version of Atlantis…never mind," he said before McKay could question him. "I don't suppose you could contact one of those other other realities and give me some intel on them, could ya?"

McKay chuckled. "No. The PUT may be powerful but it's also unpredictable."

"If that's the case are you sure you can get me home?"

"Reasonably sure. It should be just like your trip here, except instead of being pulled you'll be pushed. The gravitational force will be greater but I think the shields can withstand the additional stress."

"You think?"

"I know. I'm sure your people are looking for you and have a rescue mission in place. Your McKay should be able to extrapolate and find a location to pinpoint for your return. Should anything unfortunate happen they will be on hand to rescue you."

"Should? Wonderful," John muttered.

"Don't worry, John. You'll be fine. Oh, there will be a slight difference in time but only by a few days or a week or so…I think."

"A few days or a week? How long? Crap! Anything could have happened in that time!" John declared. "Anything else you care to impart before you send me to my possible demise?"

McKay met his gaze. "We'll always have Vegas."

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John grasped the controls. He guided the Jumper into the blue, blue sky. The vehicle was cloaked and invisible to all sensors on Earth. He accelerated, glancing at the blinking lights and activating the HUD to guide him towards open space and the rift opening that would send him home.

That would send him back to Atlantis.

His grip tightened as he thought about the city. He could almost feel it's longing for him, like a siren's call and his emotions replied in kind. At the same time he was almost reluctant to return, to face the ongoing grief and the loss of Lorne.

To face more losses because that was inevitable and as much as he dreaded it he knew there was nothing he could do to change it.

He knew he was needed, now more than ever with a new threat on the horizon, a new species of aliens that were as yet incomprehensible, and more terrifying because of that. He had debated staying in this reality. This one was devoid a John Sheppard, after all, and he could nicely fit the bill, even so far as to becoming a detective. But he knew he couldn't do that.

That was the coward's way.

He had to return to the city, to his reality where his life was. To the reality where his friends were no doubt searching for him even now. Truth be told he was worried about them. With no way yet to contact Earth they were vulnerable. They were a tiny outpost in an increasingly hostile galaxy. He was the military commander, after all, and he had serious responsibilities to everyone based out there. He couldn't abandon them.

He wouldn't abandon them.

"John? We're going to lose radio contact with you as you get closer to the rift. Just fly right into it and your ship will do the rest with the programming I installed. John?"

"Yeah, roger that, McKay. Just fly into the light," John replied, breaking from his thoughts.

"Yes, exactly. Well, not exactly, but you know what I mean. Thanks, again, John. We couldn't have done it without you."

"Next time try sending a card first, okay?"

McKay chuckled. "Will do. Good luck. Live long and prosper."

"No, may the Force be with you," John corrected, but static filled his ear. He switched off the comm and squinted as the depths of space swallowed him and a white line was opening in the distance. He aimed the ship for it. "Here we go," he said, as the ship began to tremble with the increasing acceleration.

John found himself closing his eyes as the light was intolerable. He kept hold of the controls and guided the ship with his mind. "Hold together, baby, hold together," he muttered, as the Jumper was shaking violently now and alarms were chiming in unison.

The trip was worse, more violent as the Jumper was abruptly shoved forwards into the anomaly. Luckily John was strapped into his seat this time but still he was flung forward and banged his head on the controls. As he profusely swore he was flung back into his seat and he lost hold of the controls as they slid from his sweaty hands.

The white light swallowed him.

Then all was black.

All was black.

Black.


End file.
